


Moth Wings

by Xazz



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Fantasy, Fluff, Human/Vampire Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Music, Music Creation, Servants, Vampires, Violins, flangst, non classical vampires, violinist Altair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: In the valley there is no war, no strife, no hardship. But there is the coven that makes their home in the castle on the side of the mountain. They don't ask for much. From most people. From Altair they decided his servitude for the rest of his life was a proper payment for the good life of everyone else in the valley.Then a strange vampire from the south came to visit.
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! What's better than a vampire AU? A weird vampires AU where they're kinda like spooky bug fey folk but also 100% will suck your blood and look good while doing it.
> 
> Updates are posted ahead of time on my blog and longer chapters are posted elsewhere which you can also find on my blog. It's already like 30k long over there.
> 
> Edit: I always forget summaries...

It had been a long year.

Altair was at his usual spot lately. He’d been spending more and more hours every day for the past few weeks. The chrysalis had been getting more and more opaque as the weeks had gone on and the master demanded someone be there to watch it. And it certainly wouldn’t be one of the coven. So it fell to Altair.

He was supposed to stay up all day and night with it now. Someone at least came and gave him food and drink. Half the time he just tried to not fall asleep, entertaining himself with his sketchbook, his one reprieve in this dark world he’d found himself in.

But finally.

Finally.

The chrysalis was hatching.

It was the middle of the day and the masters were asleep. But it didn’t matter to the one in the chrysalis. The fragile skin surrounding it splintered and a clear fluid leaked out and dribbled on the stone floor. Altair only left to get a mop and water. He knew he’d have to clean it anyway so he might as well prepare. There were already blankets and towels at the ready in tall stacks surrounding the altar the chrysalis was on.

Altair just sat and waited. He’d been instructed not to touch the chrysalis. Either it emerged on its own and was strong enough to join the coven, or it died in birth. Altair thought that was a pretty mean way to welcome a child into the world. But what did he know? This wasn’t his world. This was the world of the night. A world of darkness. A sleepless world for Altair.

An hour ticked by. Another. Slowly the cracks formed fractures and then rips in the fragile membrane of the chrysalis. He saw something moving in there, backlit by the chandelier overhead.

Then finally, well past noon, the chrysalis split. Embiotic juices splashed across the altar and floor and a figure tumbled out, onto the altar.

It was the size of a small child and looking at it Altair could hardly believe it was a vampire. It looked so thin and fragile. It’s black eyes were huge, its teeth comically too big for its mouth, its skull shape wrong to fit all those teeth. Its wings were damp and delicate, stuck to its back like paper.

Unlike a human newborn it didn’t cry when it came into the world. It was too large. This was a vampire infant but it was nothing like a human infant. It was already as big as a toddler. It just looked at Altair with its big black eyes, breathing through its mouth, his nose clogged with mucus.

He started when it squeaked. Almost like a cat. “Oh, right,” he muttered and grabbed some towels and gathered the infant up. He wiped it down and it made more soft little squeaking noises at him. So unlike human babies. It was more like the noise baby animals made when they were hungry.

He swallowed realizing he might be the meal the masters intended for the newborn.

But that made no sense. He was much too big. Also they wouldn’t just throw him away like that. Or he hoped not.

He unwrapped the child and swaddled it again in some blankets. “Yes yes, let’s get you some food,” and he left the hatching room. He hadn’t left this room in days. What a relief it was. And it was still light out.

He went to the kitchens and there were fowl livestock for the lower members of the coven here. And he knew in the cellar were the... human livestock. He refused to think about it. Instead he put the child on the floor and went to get a syringe. He’d drawn blood from the animal livestock enough for the lower members of the coven to know how to do it without really hurting the animal. He stabbed a duck and drew a measure of blood. The duck was very unhappy about that but couldn’t easily protest locked in its little cage.

Altair sat at the kitchen table with the babe in his lap and let it lap up blood from the syringe. The masters would probably be furious knowing their spawn’s first meal had been game but Altair wasn’t allowed in the cellar. Even if he was he wouldn’t draw blood from humans. He couldn’t. It wasn’t like they were awake to take care of it. Altair had a feeling that’d be his job now.

“Better?” he asked the little spawn after it had licked up all the blood out of the big syringe. It just yawned at him and closed its eyes. “Oh good,” he yawned and slumped in the chair. He was so tired. Now that the child was hatched maybe he could finally get some sleep again. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and despite himself he fell asleep.

\--

He was woken by a commotion in the kitchen and loud voices. He sat up. The child was still in his lap, starting to fuss from the noise. Altair patted its back, rousing himself. He couldn’t have slept more than a few hours. Not nearly enough to make up for the sleepless weeks he’d had leading up to yesterday.

“Where’d he go?” he heard one of the adults call and Altair knew he was being spoken of.

“Well… time to meet the family,” he sighed to the child, who was still fussing. He got up, holding the child to his chest, and left the kitchen. He climbed the stairs up to the dining room where several members of the coven were, talking loudly, annoyedly.

As soon as he entered the room they all looked towards him, drawn by his smell as much as the noise, and the smell of the newborn he was sure. “Where have you been?” the Matron shrieked.

“Down in the kitchen, mistress,” he kept his eyes down so he couldn’t even see her. She flew over to him and his hands went limp as she snatched the child from his grasp. “They were hungry.”

“Hmph,” and she stormed back down into the kitchen with the child. Probably to go to the cellar.

“Go clean up the mess, Altair,” said one of the children.

“Yes, young master,” he said and shuffled away. As he did he felt them watching him. He hoped it wasn’t in hunger.

He went back to the hatching chamber to his mop and bucket. He put the now empty chrysalis in another basin. The master would want it. For what he didn’t know. Altair knew better than to ask. He then slopped the now cold soapy water across the altar and floor and set about mopping up. He ended up half falling asleep standing up, using the mop to keep him upright. Only when he almost took a header into the altar did he try and wake himself more and stay more alert to finish the chore.

Once he was done he made sure the rest of the hatching chamber was in order, he put away all the cleaning supplies and made sure the chamber was neat and tidy for if the Matron came by to inspect his work. Then he took the basin with the chrysalis and went to the master’s study.

The master was there already, smoking out of a long silver pipe, reading an old book. The master’s study was his collection of books and artifacts from the world over. He’d been alive centuries and knew all sorts of things. Sometimes when he was in a good mood he’d take the time he’d tell Altair some of the things he knew. “Master,” he said at the open door. “I brought the chrysalis as you asked.”

“Yes yes, bring it in, Altair,” he beckoned. Altair entered and set the basin down on the desk. “That is all, Altair.”

“Master,” Altair didn’t leave quite yet. “May I sleep now?”

The old vampire chuckled. “Yes. I supposed you’ve been a good little human. You may sleep the night. But tomorrow night.”

“Yes, master,” he bowed a little, still not lifting his eyes even enough to see what he looked like.

Altair retreated and went back to his little room and used one of the wall lamps to light a worn candle to provide light in the room. It was a broom closet they’d allowed him to have so he wasn’t sleeping on the floor. They might not have been human but his masters refused to be ‘animals’ they said. He also knew he should be grateful for a bed, a stool, candles, and a piss pot. They reminded him often that the humans down in the cellar slept on straw like proper livestock and they all just used a corner for their business.

There was an old jug of water in the room. He wet a cloth and wiped himself off as he was sticky from cleaning the hatching chamber and the child. Then he removed all his clothing and crawled into his little cot with the thin blanket. There was no pillow but it hardly mattered. He laid on his stomach and was asleep in only a few heart beats.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a very spooky scary time in the US right now. So it seems the best thing to do is to post some extra chapters of Moth Wings. Because vampires are less scary then the current political climate :,)
> 
> Tumblr is currently a couple chapters ahead, you can check them out on my tumblr xazz.tumblr.com. You can also find out how to read so far unposted stuff there.

He only woke because his stomach hurt.

He groaned, pushing himself up. His stomach hurt and complained loudly. He was famished. He crawled out of bed and in the dark put on some clean clothes before leaving the closet. He checked behind the heavy drapes over the windows. It was nearly sunset. He’d slept all night and day. He wasn’t surprised.

His growling stomach made him leave the castle. There was no food for him here. They only kept livestock for drinking in the castle. The castle itself sat in the shadow of a mountain and at the bottom of the mountain was a town. They all knew vampires lived up there and it was better than any human lord they’d ever had. The coven didn’t hunt in the valley. All the town had to do was provide them with amusement at night. Festivals, fairies, music, plays, singing and dancing, and, of course, taxes. But Altair had heard about other towns, beyond the valley, that also had to pay taxes, and it was almost all people had. No. The masters might not have always been kind to Altair but it was far better than the alternative. They never actually threatened to eat him. They just scared him telling him about the humans in the cellar. And he wasn’t even sure that was true.

He was from the town at the bottom of the hill. It was called Castlesong. He’d been born there, lived there his entire life. Then a year and a half ago the Matron had come looking for a strong, abled, young man of sound mind and able to follow instructions. He’d been ‘volunteered’, against his will, by his neighbors. He knew it was because he was ‘too pretty’ they always said. Too distracting to their wives, daughters, and even sons.

He hadn’t even done anything. He’d been the son of the town’s violin maker for goodness sake!

It wasn’t so late the pub was closed yet. He went in and sat alone. The maid came and he ordered something to eat for now and a few pies to eat cold later, and a big mug of ale. He waited, picked at stuff under his nails he’d missed from last night, and was happy when the food was brought. He stuffed himself and washed it all down with the light ale until he was tired again. It was still light out. And he had to wait for his pies. He ended up dozing in the booth. The maid woke him, made him pay, and then rather nicely kicked him out with a basket of pies for his trouble.

Yes. Of course they didn’t want the coven’s ‘pet human’ around longer than necessary.

He trudged back up the mountain to the castle. He could hear the coven inside, laughing and talking loudly. He slipped past the dining hall as he went down to the kitchen. The coven was enjoying breakfast of cups of blood. It looked like they were drinking wine.

Altair put his pies into a cool box in the kitchen for when he got hungry later. Then he went back upstairs. Meals were always short for the coven. They all had a cup of blood and then went about their business. The master was always last to leave. He waited until the others except the master and mistress were gone before presenting himself, looking down at the floor. “Master.”

“Ah, Altair. Good good, you’re here. Perfect timing.”

“Is this really so, William dear?” the Matron asked.

“My love, when was the last time you raised a child?”

“And instead a human shall?”

“For a little while. Our other children turned out fine, dove,” Altair heard the master pat the mistress’ hand gently. “But the first years are so tedious. And it’s better this way. You know that. Gets them acclimated to being around humans and they’re less likely to break away.” The mistress made a noise of complaint but said nothing. “Altair, at last the task you were brought here for is upon you.”

“Yes, master,” he said.

“Our new son, Desmond, will need constant care. Day and night. That is now your responsibility. The only task you will not have is his feedings. As our son he will have real blood.”

“And I’m not allowed in the cellar,” Altair said.

“Absolutely not,” the master agreed. “But he should need feeding only one or two more times more than us. If such a time comes I’ve already spoken to the coven they are to assist you without complaint in ensuring my son is fed. If they do not comply you are to come to me immediately and inform me. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

The child was then thrust at him. “If you mess up, Altair. You will be the first live meal I’ve had in decades,” the mistress hissed.

He swallowed. “I don’t wish to disappoint, mistress,” he said, holding the child to him. “And… Desmond, you said his name was?”

“Yes. Desmond,” the master said.

“I will keep him close, master, mistress,” he bowed.

“See that you do,” the Matron sneered.

“Come, Desmond, let’s go find your room,” he said and left the dining room.

It was easy to find the babe’s room. He had been told of it several times while he was a chrysalis. It was a cheerful room, painted pink and yellow and full of soft things, both fluffy and perfect for biting. They’d all been gifts from the towns in the valley for the lord and lady’s new child. More toys than a little boy could ever want or play with in a lifetime. Though perhaps vampire children lasted longer as children than human children. The chrysalis had been there a fair amount of time before Altair had been brought to the castle.

He put the babe on the floor and got out some toys for him to play with. Brightly colored blocks painted on the side with letters and scenes of the valley. “Blocks, Desmond. See,” and he started stacking them. Desmond watched him but didn’t understand at first. Altair sighed and leaned back on his arm and just kept boredly stacking the blocks into pyramids and towers and knocking them over. Desmond couldn’t stand or walk but he could sit up on his own. And he just sat there watching Altair with wide black eyes, amazed at what he was doing. After a few builds Desmond leaned forward and knocked over the tower Altair had made. “See, you can do it too,” Altair said. He offered Desmond a block. He took it but just dropped it. Altair sighed. Right. That was too much to hope for. He was hatched yesterday. His wings were still against his back, limp and useless along his spine.

Altair spent the rest of the early evening playing with blocks with Desmond and talking to him softly. Around midnight he took Desmond to go for his midnight feed with the rest of the coven. He gave him over to the mistress and retreated down into the kitchen to have his pies. Up in the dining room he heard the vampires cooing and awwing over the baby, laughing and talking loudly about how cute and funny he was.

Altair just ate his pies and thought about what he was going to do. Who knew how long he’d be here taking care of Desmond. He needed to have a plan. At least so he didn’t go crazy. He was expected to care for this child and… teach it? Maybe? He wasn’t quite sure. At the very least probably teach him to talk and walk and run and play.

He put his pie down half eaten and put it back in the cool box. He slunk out of the kitchen and unseen past the dining room where the coven was making a big uproar about something their newest member was doing. He went to his closet of a room and grabbed his sketchbook and pencils and left them in Desmond’s room. He returned to stand outside the dining room until the coven had all otherwise left. The Matron walked out and he looked down. He just wordlessly held out his hands. Desmond was placed into them and she walked away.

“Your mother is a nice lady,” Altair told Desmond sarcastically. Desmond just stared at him. He took Desmond back to his room and they played with the blocks some more before Desmond laid down on the floor to sleep. Altair quickly transferred him to his bed. If one of the others saw him letting the child sleep on the floor he didn’t want to think of what would happen.

Once the boy was asleep Altair pulled out the sketchbook but didn’t draw. Rather he started writing. All the ideas he could think of that wouldn’t make him go insane in the years to come. Things that a little boy of a lord should know. “What am I going to do?” he asked himself, rubbing his forehead. He’d come up with ideas but. He was just the son of a craftsman! What did he know about raising a lord’s son?!

Well at the very least he could teach Desmond to be kind. That’d be a start. Kinder than the rest of the coven. Maybe even give a shit about humans. At least a little. That, if nothing else, seemed like a good place to start. He could manage that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a very spooky scary time in the US right now. So it seems the best thing to do is to post some extra chapters of Moth Wings. Because vampires are less scary then the current political climate :,)
> 
> Tumblr is currently a couple chapters ahead, you can check them out on my tumblr xazz.tumblr.com. You can also find out how to read so far unposted stuff there.

Desmond was two. 

He was finally learning to walk. He looked like he should have been able to from birth but it still took a while to get it.

It was Altair’s nightmare.

Now he could wander. Or fall. Or bump into things. Or climb something.

Altair sometimes woke up in the middle of the day in a cold sweat after finding Desmond at the bottom of the stairs in the castle in his stress nightmares.

He wasn’t speaking yet though, despite Altair’s efforts. The master wasn’t upset about it but the mistress was. She kept telling Altair he needed to try harder. Altair didn’t know what else to do. He talked to Desmond all the time, asked him questions, engaged him in what they did during the night.

Altair was heading for bed one night. He’d put Desmond to sleep before the sun rose and he would sleep all day without issue. The master was waiting by his closet. He put his eyes down. “Master, did you need something?”

“Yes. We are having a guest arrive today. Before sunset. I require you to meet them in the light and have his attendants bring his sarcophagus to one of the empty chambers here in the castle.”

Altair half looked up, confused. He looked into the master’s chest. “A guest?” he asked.

“Yes. An old associate of mine. This is an important task, understand?”

“Yes, master. Do… do you need me to stay awake all day to wait for them?”

“He won’t arrive until late in the day. And it is important you are rested to care for Desmond. So rest, but not so deeply you don’t wake before dusk.”

“Yes, master,” Altair bowed. He didn’t straighten until the master was gone and went to his own chambers elsewhere in the castle.

He got ready for bed but slept poorly, knowing he needed to wake early. He woke well before dusk, going out to the castle steps and sitting, waiting. The sky was slowly turning orange and pink and Altair drifted in and out of a dozing state after his bad sleep. 

He started awake as he heard the sound of hooves on the path leading up the castle and scrambled to his feet. He waited. He shook his head, sure he was dreaming at what was coming up the path. It was a carriage being pulled by…vertically black and white striped horses. Four of them, pulling a black carriage being manned by two drivers and he could see three men hanging off the back as well.

The carriage came around the drive and stopped in front of the stairs. “Hail,” one of the drivers called.

“Hail,” Altair lifted a hand, staring at the striped horses. “I take it you’re the guest we’re expecting.”

“Yes,” the driver got down. “His majestic Malik ibn-Selim el-Jama al-Sayf of the Sunfaire Abode.”

“Oh,” that meant nothing to Altair. “The master is sleeping currently. I’m to show you where to bring the sarcophagus.”

“Very good,” and then he spoke another tongue to the others and the three men got off the back of the carriage. They were huge dark skinned men with wide shoulders and biceps as large as Altair’s torso. They opened the back of the carriage, talking to each other. The second driver joined them and he was as big as the men in the back. They dragged a sarcophagus halfway out of the carriage and then they hoisted the wooden box up onto their shoulders. The first driver looked back at Altair, “Lead the way then,” he said.

Altair was so stunned he couldn’t move for a moment and then he nodded. “Yes. Yes come follow me,” he beckoned. They followed him, climbing the stairs as Altair quickly opened the front door for them. “I assume your master is sleeping as well?” he asked the driver.

“Yes. We’ve been trying to make the going as easy as possible,” he said.

“This way,” and he led them down the hallway to where there were empty rooms, close to Desmond’s room too. He opened a few doors into empty rooms to find the nicest one and motioned the pallbearers inside. They went in and laid the sarcophagus down gently. They spoke to each other in the language Altair didn’t know briefly and one undid a few latches on the box and then they all filed back out.

“And where may we put the zebras? And where are we staying?” the driver asked.

“There’s a stable around the side. And… I don’t know where you will be staying. Your master will have to arrange that with mine.”

“Hmmm, very well.” More unknown words were spoken and then they all leff, leaving Altair alone in the hallway. Did he go after them? No. That didn’t seem right. He wasn’t needed to help them. 

While he’d been waiting for their guest it had gotten dark out. Desmond would be waking soon and Altair hadn’t eaten yet. He quickly went to the kitchen to grab something for breakfast before making his way back to Desmond’s room. As he was, eating the cheese and meat stuffed bun, a door opened. Altair froze when a figure he didn’t recognize stepped out from the room. He quickly looked down, realizing it was the master’s guest.

“That was the worst day’s sleep I’ve had in centuries,” he heard the vampire grumble. “You there,” his voice was directed towards him.

“Yes, sir?” he kept his eyes down and put the bun behind his back even as the vampire’s shoes came into his sight on the floor.

“You are the help here?”

“In a way, sir,” he said. “I look after young master Desmond.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I assume I’m too early for breakfast then?”

“The sun set a moment ago, sir. The rest of the coven has yet to wake.”

“I see– would you look up? Didn’t William teach his help to look at who they speak to,” he sounded annoyed.

Altair would rather look than make a vampire angry. He looked up at Malik. “He prefers I keep my eyes down,” he said truthfully.

Malik rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath that while he couldn’t understand did sound a lot like ‘of course he does’ in an annoyed way. He wasn’t like the other members of the coven. Malik was fairly dark skinned for a vampire with a thick head of black hair that was messed from sleeping but not so unruly he couldn’t comb it back with his fingers. Like the others he had pure black eyes but they didn’t seem as sharp. Maybe it was because of the black painted lines around the edges even if they were a bit smudged. It took Altair a moment to recognize it. He’d only ever seen ladies wear eye makeup before. “Well you can show me where the dining room is then, yes? I can wait for them.”

“Of course, sir,” Altair nodded and turned on a heel and headed for the dining room. “The kitchen is down through there if you don’t want to wait,” he pointed at the stairwell leading down when he brought the vampire to the dining room.

“I shall be a courteous guest and wait,” the vampire said and sat.

“Very good, sir. If you’d excuse me,” he bowed.

“Where are you going?”

Altair paused before he left. “I’m going to get young master Desmond.” He was looking at the table, not at the new vampire.

“Silly me, of course. My sleep made me forgetful. Off you go,” and Altair retreated, stuffing the rest of the bun into his mouth on his way back.

Desmond was groggy and whiny when Altair picked him up from his bed. “Come now, Des, its time for breakfast,” he bounced the boy gently to wake him up. The little vampire yawned and behind him his weak wings fluttered and closed against his back again. “Yes yes, very cute, but it’s time to wake up.”

He got Desmond dressed and made sure he was awake before taking him to the dining room. Some other members of the coven were already there, talking with Malik. Altair just sat in a chair at the far end of the table with the baby quietly. He was only allowed to do this until the Matron came for meals and took Desmond away, then he was to go away until the meal was over.

Desmond was more awake now and did not want to be in Altair’s lap. So he let him stand next to the table and he bounced up and down to see over it before climbing into the chair next to Altair and standing on it to get a view of the dining room. Altair kept a hand near his back in case he needed to catch him. He could walk but not very well and sometimes still fell onto his butt or knees. When they were alone it was fine but here? As more of the coven was coming in for breakfast? If the child fell he’d be done for.

Eventually the Matron came to breakfast. She cooed at Desmond as she picked him up from the chair, ignoring Altair entirely. He slid off the chair as some went to go get a fresh meal for the rest of the coven. He waited outside the dining room for meal to be over and took Desmond when the Matron left the dining room.

Back in Desmond’s room Altair tried, unsuccessfully, to engage Demond in talking. He’d read Desmond a thousand books and sang him songs and talked about musical instruments and theory and anything to encourage the boy to speak. To at least want to tell Altair to do it again. Even just to say Altair’s name. Or call his mother. But like all the other days it didn’t happen and Altair ended up laid on the rug in annoyance watching Desmond scribble with colored crayon on scrap paper. He did love to draw at least. And he loved when Altair sang to him. Even if Altair was not a good singer. Sometimes he even made noises like he was singing along with Altair, little squeaks and beeps of noise.

Maybe that was something.

When the sun rose he put Desmond to bed and went down to the town. He was the master’s servant but he wasn’t a captive. They’d just made it very clear if he left and never returned they would hunt him down and kill him. So long as he came back.

His father’s workshop was attached to his family home. He’d been training to make violins from his father when he’d been volunteered. His father had always been an early riser and Altair wasn’t surprised to find him there, stringing bows with cat gut and waxing them flat. Umar was surprised to see him. “Altair, what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too,” Altair said tiredly.

Umar was chastised, “Hello, son. What brings you here? Had enough of the castle life?” it was a minor tease but went right to Altair’s gut. Did they think he was pampered up there or something? Surely they had to realize he wasn’t a guest in the home of a vampire. He didn’t say anything about that. He just ignored the question entirely.

“May I have one of the violins?”

“Huh?” Umar was confused.

“I’ve told you I’m looking after the master’s son,” he said. Umar nodded. “He’s old enough to start talking but he isn’t. The masters are getting… increasingly upset about this. I can’t figure out a way to get him to talk.”

“Some children just take time,” Umar said gently.

“I know that. But that isn’t good enough for my masters, father,” Altair sighed. “But he makes noises when I sing to him, like he wants to sing along. I thought maybe music would get the words out?”

“Ah,” Umar nodded sagely. “Yes. We’ve had a few kids start talking to sing along with a fiddle player,” he agreed. “You’re, of course, welcome to whichever you wish,” he motioned to the workshop. There were only a few completed violins hanging on the wall, their wooden bodies shiny and beautiful. 

“Thank you.”

“Though I should make you make your own,” Umar chuckled.

Altair sighed. “I only wish, father,” he said earnestly. “I hope I get to return and finish learning,” before he died. That was left unsaid. Umar was not a young man. He and Altair’s mother had had Altair late, which was why she wasn’t here for him. Umar had raised Altair alone, their only child.

“I’m sure you will. It’s just until that brat is older yes?”

“Yes. The master promised once Desmond was half grown I could return back down here to the mountain.”

“Well that isn’t too bad. You’re young. A decade won’t feel like that long.”

“I suppose,” Altair sighed. “Let me pick one and get back. I still haven’t been to sleep yet.” Umar left him to select one of the violins. 

He picked a brightly polished one and tested it under his chin. It felt familiar and filled him with nostalgia. He tested the strings and even untuned, the strings loose, the sound it made was rich and melodic and Altair was satisfied. He put it, two bows and extra catgut and wax into a lined case. “Thank you, dad,” he said as he clipped the case closed.

“Of course, my boy. Whatever you need,” Umar said.

“I’ll try and visit again.”

“It’s alright. I know we run on opposite schedules now. Don’t feel you need to risk your sleep for me. I know you’ll be back.”

“Thank you,” Altair bowed a little before heading back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the update leave a nice comment. Makes me feel appreciated and that you care.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! This isn't a happy chapter! But hey, Malik's in it. That's something right?
> 
> Anyone who follows me on my blog might have seen I've had a _very_ rough few months medically. But I'm much better now no worse for wear other than like a dozen or so needle pokes. So updates on everything should be quicker. Well, for the most part. AO3 is on a delay on all stories. So if you'd like to be up to date you can visit [my blog](http://xazz.tumblr.com) where I'm posting new stuff sooner. And there's a way to read stuff way ahead of time and stuff that'll never be posted here also on my blog.

In the morning after breakfast Altair brought the violin case into Desmond’s room. Desmond was playing with some blocks. Altair took the bow out first and tightened and waxed it properly. Then he put the violin up under his chin and started to tighten the pegs. He drew the bow across the strings and they gave a jumbled dissonance of out of key notes, making him wince.

Over the next hour or so Altair tuned the violin, testing each string one at a time then all together and then playing something, hearing the dissonance, and retuning it. It was slow going really. His ear wasn’t as trained as it used to be. Before all this he’d had nearly perfect pitch and could tell what was out of tune and how much to turn the peg effortlessly. This was taking a great effort now.

Finally he had the instrument tuned and he stood up. “Alright Desmond, I want you to sing along,” he said and drew the bow across the strings with an open neck. The chord was harmonic and beautiful. 

He was out of practice playing too and his first attempts were clumsy. He screwed up notes and played things out of tune as he tried to remember some songs he’d once memorized.

The first day was full of failures and his fingers hurt after every attempt. He wasn’t used to playing anymore. After he put Desmond asleep for the night he laid in his bed and cried over his cramped hands, the strings had dug in so deeply they’d nearly drawn blood. It wasn’t even the pain though. It was that he couldn’t play like he used to. He’d grown up playing. He’d spent his entire life playing. And these three and a half years he’d been forced to stay here in the castle had robbed him of calluses and memory of how to do what he loved.

But he tried again the next day, pacing himself instead. He played a bit until his fingers hurt and then stopped and played with Desmond. When his hands felt better he tried again, stumbled his way through a song, and rested his hands again. The next day his hands didn’t hurt as bad.

He spent the next week or so doing that. Playing little ditties on the violin for Desmond’s amusement and building up his muscle memory and hand strength again. It wasn’t all gone really. It had just been buried. By the end of the week he remembered most of it but he still didn’t have the hand dexterity anymore for quick songs.

He needed a rest after a week. He didn’t bring the violin out and instead read Desmond story books. His hands had hurt so much that night and he needed to rest. Desmond liked the story books and picked out all the ones he liked he wanted Altair to read. As he did he tried to encourage Desmond to say some of the words with him. He never did.

As he was putting Desmond to sleep the boy was fussy and whiny. “What is it, Des? Hmm? What’s the matter? Why are you so fussy huh? You’re usually so good about going to bed.” Desmond, of course, didn’t say anything. But he sat up, stopping his fussing for a moment, and crudely mimed playing a violin like Altair had. That surprised him. “You want me to play you a song?” Desmond nodded. “Okay,” he got up from the bed and went to get the violin.

He made sure the instrument was tuned and sat on Desmond’s bed again. He played a simple lullaby instead of a ditty. His father used to play it to him when he was little to help him go to sleep so he only knew it by ear. Umar claimed Altair’s mother had written the piece and Altair liked to think Umar playing it for him was his way of having his mother sing to him at night. It wasn’t a sad lullaby like a lot were but it was down beat.

It was the first time he felt he played with any confidence since he’d brought the instrument here. He closed his eyes as he played, going by feel alone. The lullaby itself wasn’t very long. A dozen or so bars and he repeated them a few times. Eventually he opened his eyes and saw Desmond was sound asleep. He smiled and leaned over, kissing the boy’s cheek. “Goodnight, Desmond,” he said softly.

He started when he heard soft clapping and spun. Standing in the open doorway was the foreign vampire, Malik. Altair’s eyes got very wide and he swallowed. Shit. Had he seen Altair kiss Desmond goodnight? He was pretty sure the Matron would have a fit if she knew. “That was beautiful,” Malik said, just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to wake Desmond. “Come over here,” he beckoned.

Altair hesitated only a moment before obeying. Malik stepped out of the door and into the hall, he closed the door behind Altair to not disturb the babe. “You play very well,” he said.

“Thank you,” Altair swallowed.

“Have you played long?”

“Since I was a boy,” he said, looking down. 

He started and flinched when the vampire grabbed him by the chin. “I told you the last time we spoke, look at me when you speak to me,” he said, making Altair look at him.

“Sorry, sir,” he swallowed.

“You learned to play when you were a boy?” Malik kept hold of his chin, like he knew Altair would look away the moment he was allowed. He wasn’t wrong. Altair nodded. “Who taught you?”

“My father. My family has made violins for musicians in the valley for five generations.”

“And you too?”

“I would have. But I was chosen to attend the castle and young master Desmond,” he swallowed.

Malik finally released his chin and he took a step back but didn’t avert his eyes. “Follow me,” was all Malik said and turned around. Altair wilted but did follow Malik. He was surprised when Malik led him into his chambers. In the week or so since his arrival he’d decorated and added his own things to the chamber. Did he intend to stay long? Malik fell gracefully onto a sofa. “Play for me,” he ordered.

“Ah— excuse me?” Altair squeaked.

“The song you played for the boy was lovely. I want one too.”

“Ah— I’m very out of practice. It won’t sound good,” Altair stammered.

“I won’t notice. We don’t have instruments like that where I’m from. Now play me something,” he put his arms on the back of either side of the sofa. Altair swallowed and put the violin up under his chin again. He closed his eyes because seeing Malik watching him was intimidating. He tried to think of something, anything, to play but he came up with nothing. He couldn’t remember a single sheet of music, couldn’t picture a single bar in his head. And Malik was waiting.

He just started playing. Nothing quick, his fingers weren’t fast enough for an upbeat song. He just played how he felt which was all he could do. He could imagine the notes like drops of water, splattering in a pool, and that helped him along. He played something that reminded him of before he was in the castle and he’d go down to the lake near the town and watch the mist lift during the morning. Tranquil, secluded, and with a touch of melancholy. And he knew he’d never get to watch a sunrise over the lake in a long time. Maybe ever again. Who knew how long vampires took to grow up. Desmond might be a child the rest of his life.

As he thought that the music turned from melancholy to sad, long mournful chords that Altair felt in his bones. Playing and hearing the music just made him even sadder. Desmond was two but he didn’t look like he’d aged a day since he’d hatched. Who knew how long it’d be until he looked like he was five, or ten, or fifteen, or old enough for the masters. Altair could be here forever. This could be his entire life now. Taking care of a young vampire who’d never grow up.

He jerked and his eyes flashed open when someone grabbed his wrist holding the bow. Malik was standing in front of him. “Why are you so sad?” Malik asked and to Altair’s horror he reached up to his face and wiped away a track of tears streaming down both cheeks. “What’s William doing to you?”

“N-nothing. I should go,” and before Malik could stop him he bolted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story kudos are cool but comments are SO much better. Even just a 'loved it'. Or you know, mad about how mean I am to Altair, I'll take that too lol. It also makes me feel appreciated for all the hard work I do writing this stuff!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 is on a delay on all stories. So if you'd like to be up to date you can visit [my blog](http://xazz.tumblr.com) where I'm posting new stuff sooner. And there's a way to read stuff way ahead of time and stuff that'll never be posted here also on my blog.

The next day Altair only played the violin quietly. He didn’t want Malik to hear and Desmond liked the music. Malik didn’t bother him that day, or the next, thankfully.

His hand strength was increasing now. And he was starting to develop callouses on his fingers again. Thankfully. It made playing easier.

It didn’t get him any closer to getting Desmond to talk. When Desmond wanted music he mimed playing the violin. That wouldn’t do. He needed to get Desmond to start talking. He needed to show progress to the mistress and master. That he was doing right by them. That he wasn’t fucking up their son. Of course he also bitterly thought if they were really worried about the state of their son’s development they should be the one raising him!

Altair had taken to playing the lullaby each night now to Desmond. He sat on the bed with the violin as Desmond lay under the covers. He mimed playing. “No,” Altair said. “If you want me to play you ask, with words.” Desmond frowned. “I know you understand me, Des. If you want me to play you a lullaby you need to ask me.”

Desmond scowled at him and mimed again that he wanted Altair to play. “I’m not going to play unless you use words, Desmond.”

Desmond scowled and rolled onto his side, pouting. Altair didn’t leave yet. “Just ask me to play, and I’ll play all night if you want,” he stroked the boy’s hair gently.

Desmond sat up. His mouth worked and then in a very bad way went, “Altear plaw.”

Altair’s eyes widened. “Play? You want me to play?”

“Plaw,” Desmond said and mimed using the bow. “Plaw, plaw.”

“Okay. I’ll play,” and he tucked Desmond back into bed. “Thank you for using your words,” he said, holding onto the hem of the blanket. “Using our words gets things we want, see?”

“Yeas,” Desmond said. “Plaw.”

“I will. You’re such a good boy,” and he kissed Desmond on the forehead. Then he sat up and took up the violin and started to play the lullaby. Even just the few days his hands were more deft and sure than they had been the first time he played. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of the song washing over him, reminding him of being a child himself. In his bed Desmond yawned and Altair kept playing. He played it a few times and at the end of the last bar hung onto the last note, letting it fade slowly into the air around them and opened his eyes. Desmond was sound asleep, curled up under the covers.

Altair got up and put the violin away. He always took it back to his closet room with him every night. He liked having it near. It reminded him of his father. Of his life outside the castle.

He closed the door softly and when he turned around his heart was in his throat. Malik was leaning against the wall just next to the door. “Ah, sir, did you need anything?” Altair stammered stupidly, looking down at his chest and not his face but at least not looking at the ground.

He flinched when Malik put a finger under his chin, making him look up. “Just a bit higher,” he said nicely.

Altair swallowed, “Can I do something for you?”

“Yes,” Malik stood up properly and Altair really wished he’d just leave him alone. “Come with me.” Altair did follow and was glad Malik had turned away so he could avert his eyes. He didn’t lead Altair to his room but to another room. A bigger room. A ballroom perhaps? Altair had never been in here. A small couch had been brought into the middle of the ballroom. Malik went and sat on it and Altair was destined to stand before him. He started to get nervous, his hands trembling. “Play for me,” he said.

“What?” Altair choked.

“Play for me. I’ve heard you practicing. Let’s hear you now,” Malik reclined into the back of the couch.

“Ah- alright,” he put the violin case down and pulled the instrument out, retightening the loose bow. He swallowed and put the violin under his chin. He needed to think of something. He closed his eyes to try and think of some music. Anything. Something came after a few seconds, piercing through the panic. It was an up beat song but not very quick so he could keep up with the tempo. He used to play it a lot during festival days with other string players. It was a song for spring and reminded Altair of flittering butterflies.

The sound filled the ballroom, the high ceilings and marble floor creating perfect acoustics for the sound. It made it sound like there were five players in the room and not just Altair. He opened his eyes to look around the room he’d never been, his hands knowing the song well enough to not need his supervision. It was a high vaulted room with beautifully painted walls and a place to sit along the sides. And while spectacular wasn’t really of interest to Altair. The dining room was as magnificent and he saw that every day.

His eyes eventually rested on Malik sitting in the sofa and he was watching intently. It made him faulter and Altair lost tempo, his fingers scattering across the neck awkwardly. He blushed, looked away, and pulled himself together. He looked back at Malik and Malik was just enraptured by the playing. He wasn’t anywhere as good as he used to be but Malik didn’t know that. To him this was the height of how you played this instrument.

Finally the song ended and Altair lowered the bow. Malik clapped, smiling widely. “That was marvelous. Absolutely fantastic,” he said brightly.

“Thank you,” Altair said humbly.

“What’s your name?”

Altair wasn’t sure why he was surprised Malik didn’t know his name but he was. He supposed it would have appeared beneath him to ask the masters the name of their human nanny. “Altair,” he said, “Altair Luthier.”

“Such a name hardly belongs here in the mountains like this,” Malik said. “Is your family from here?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded. “Five generations.”

“And before that?”

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You look different from the other humans in the town,” Malik remarked.

“Yes. My family and some others in the valley are darker skinned,” he admitted.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Apologies,” Altair bowed, “Your driver named you when you first arrived but I forgot most of it. I know you’re the master’s guest, Malik,” he apologized.

Malik chuckled. “It is a mouthful for you so far north, I don’t blame you for forgetting. I am a member of the Sunfaire coven far to the south. William and I are… well friend is such a strong word among our kind. He and I have an understanding. I am visiting for a time.”

Altair wasn’t sure why he was being told this. But the vampire wanted to converse with him. How odd. “Is there a reason? If he’s not your friend then why would you come here? Especially as it will be winter soon and the winters are frigid here.”

Malik smiled slightly. “Yes. I have heard. But there is unrest in my homeland. I disagree with the direction of my coven and how they are dealing with the unrest. So I took myself out of the picture until it is over.”

“Oh. How long will that be?”

“Who knows? A year? Five years? A generation? Humans have such a hard time letting go of their petty squabbles. Now play something else for me.”

“Alright,” Altair said slowly. He brought the violin back up, thought about what to play and decided to just do the lullaby with some flourish. The lullaby made him feel better as much as Desmond. But he added a bit more to it. A pitch change, a tempo shift, the rearrangement of some notes. The familiar song made him feel more at ease even with Malik watching him so closely.

Malik didn’t stop him and he just kept playing. Eventually leaving the lullaby melody for something else. Just something his fingers did without much thought. But he didn’t let it get sad like he had a few days ago. The music soothed him and even though he was the one playing it he felt himself being lulled to sleep by the music. He was also very tired. Playing with Desmond and practicing all day made him so tired. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in years it felt like.

A hand grabbed his wrist and he realized he was about to fall over. “Oh— uh—“ he felt very foolish at Malik holding his wrist. “Apologies. I uh— I almost nodded off there,” he flushed in embarrassment.

Malik didn’t scold him or even seem upset. “I suppose it is well past sunrise.” He delicately took the bow out of Altair’s hand, loosened it, and put it in the case. He took the violin as well and closed it in its soft lined case. Then he picked the case up but didn’t offer it to Altair. “I will carry it for you,” he said and motioned for Altair to go. He was mortified. A vampire? Carrying his violin?

“N-no, I can do it,” he tried to reach for it.

Malik just put a hand on his chest. “You’ve provided me with beautiful music tonight. It is the least I can do is carry a bit of weight before you go to bed.”

Altair didn’t know what to do and felt trapped. Eventually he just nodded and headed for his closet. Malik followed behind. “You play so well. Does the coven know you play?”

“I don’t think so,” Altair said.

“A pity,” Malik scoffed. “Or maybe for the better. I get to enjoy it all on my own without their racket,” he chuckled. “Well, of course, me and Desmond.”

Altair just laughed awkwardly. “I can take it now,” he said outside his door and held his hand out for the case.

“This is where you sleep?” Malik’s brow furrowed even as he surrendered the case. The door wasn’t like the other doors in the castle to everyone else’s rooms. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” he bowed. He waited for Malik to leave but the vampire didn’t. “Uh?” he looked up and Malik was just standing there. “Aren’t you also going to go to sleep, Malik?”

“I’m a polite guest. It’s rude to leave before someone you walk home has gone inside,” Malik said. Altair looked at him, shrugged, and opened his door. He was surprised when Malik put his hand on the door before he could close it. “This is where you sleep?” Malik asked again, sharper this time.

“Ah? Yes?” Altair said, swallowing, trying not to cower.

Malik said something in another language, he sounded very annoyed. He looked down upon Altair’s little cot shoved into the corner and the tiny stool and water jug and basin. Then he looked at Altair. “No wonder you’re asleep on your feet.”

“I was very busy today,” Altair said.

“You’re sleeping on a board with a furred rug over it and no pillow,” Malik said it out loud and Altair looked down, humiliated. He didn’t like to think of it like that. “I don’t know how William and Kaley expect you to look after their son in a state like this.” He seemed genuinely angry about it. “In my coven we’d never allow the humans to stay in such a place. Oh I am having words with them,” he growled.

“No, please don’t,” Altair grabbed his arm. “The mistress already treats me so coldly, please don’t speak to her of this.”

Malik’s black eyes were narrowed. “You deserve better than this, even if you are a human,” Malik said. “Even the cattle are more well off.”

That rattled in Altair’s skull. “What?” he asked softly.

“Have you ever been to the cellar?”

“No. I’m not allowed down there,” Altair said just above a whisper.

“They have beds, and chairs, and places to sit comfortably in their confinement. Hell they even have space for things, personal items and entertainment. They haven’t even graced you with a shelf,” he motioned angrily to the closet. “What have they told you it was like down there?” Altair repeated the words the Matron had told him often. “Hah. Hardly. This coven hasn’t hunted fresh food in decades because they take good care of their livestock. They keep them well fed and fat. I’ve seen what you eat. Cold food you bring from the town. I’m sure they wonder why you even go there when they bring hot food up here every day to the outer cellar door for the humans. Mocking them like the food they bring isn’t good enough?

“No. I will certainly be speaking with William and Kaley of this because this is unacceptable. Even my servants have their own shared rooms thrice as big as this and only two people sleep in it,” he motioned to the room angrily again.

Altair was about to have a break down. He let go of Malik and was just sitting on his cot, staring at him. He’d suffered this place for three years, taking care of that horrible pulsating chrysalis and then their little son and they acted like a closet and providing him a small amount of money to buy his own food was a kindness. First he’d been forced to leave his home, his life, his livlihood, and now this came to light? He put a hand over his face and cried.

Malik stepped into the closet and knelt by him. “Altair?”

“Please sir, just go away,” he said thickly.

“Yes but-

“I wish to be alone. Please. Allow me that,” he looked at Malik with tearful eyes. 

Malik looked stricken. He didn’t even react when Malik reached up to wipe away his tears. “I think you’ve been alone enough,” he said nicely. “And I don’t want to leave you here. You don’t deserve to sleep here another night.”

“Where else would I go?” Altair asked with a mad smile. “The garden? I’ll just sleep under the rose bushes huh?”

“Not quite what I had in mind, no,” Malik said. “But there is an extra bed in my chambers.”

“Wh-what? No. No I couldn’t,” Altair said quickly.

“I insist.”

“But-

“Altair,” he said with some impatience. “I know William has told you to obey any vampire in this castle, yes?” He nodded. “Well, I am one. So you will obey,” he said sternly.

“I don’t wish to intrude-

“Get up,” Malik stood. Altair hesitated but did stand. Malik pushed him out of the closet and stalked him down the hall back to the hall where his and Desmond’s quarters were. Altair wrung his hands the entire time nervously, nearly wringing the skin clean off. Malik opened the door and bullied him inside. “You can sleep here,” he said, showing Altair to the bedroom.

“W-what? No. I couldn’t. That’s your bed. I couldn’t push you out of that.”

“You can,” Malik said. “I have my slab,” he pointed to the sarcophagus in the corner of the room. “It’s really quite comfortable. You won’t be putting me out.”

“Yes but-

“Altair,” he spoke over his nervous prattling. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night,” Altair said dumbly.

“Really slept. Slept well? Got an honest to goodness real night sleep where you didn’t wake up as exhausted the night before? Hmm?”

Altair didn’t answer at first. But they both knew the answer. “Since I came here,” he said softly.

“I thought as much. Now please. You do a hard, thankless, task, you deserve a good’s night sleep. Now I am insisting you take my bed for the night.”

Altair still hesitated. But Malik didn’t seem a bad sort. And he seemed genuinely angry about the closet. He was being genuine. “Alright,” he finally said.

“Good,” and Malik put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry your only interaction with vampires has been this coven,” he growled. “I assure you, we aren’t all like this. Most of us appreciate our human workers. This is why William and I have an understanding, but he is not my friend.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he bowed because he didn’t know what else to do. “You’ve been… very kind to me.”

“Only what you deserve,” Malik grunted. Then he released Altair and went to the sarcophagus. He removed his night coat and stretched out his arms and his glass-like strangely insectoid wings unfurled from his spine to also stretch out, straining to their full length. Altair had only ever seen Desmond’s tiny, useless wings. He’d never seen an adult vampire’s full wings. They were colored on the back like a moth or butterfly. Then they curled back up against Malik’s back and he climbed into the sarcophagus, closing the lid without another word.

That just left Altair in the bedroom of a vampire. He swallowed and took off some of his clothes. Just so he wasn’t sleeping fully dressed but more dressed than he’d usually sleep. Then he carefully sat on the bed, watching the sarcophagus like Malik would climb back out and call him a fool for believing such things and throw him out. But Malik didn’t. Altair inched his way further onto the bed and under the covers. They were the softest, most luxurious sheets he’d ever felt in his life. Even with the comforter he felt cool under them. And the pillows were great and plush, cradling his head gently.

Altair sank into the softness with a content sigh, eyes closing. He opened them enough to turn the lamp on the bedside table off before he closed his eyes. He slept better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story kudos are cool but comments are SO much better. Even just a 'loved it'. Or you know, mad about how mean I am to Altair, I'll take that too lol. It also makes me feel appreciated for all the hard work I do writing this stuff!

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in where this is going and like the story so far make sure to leave a comment. So I know there's interest here for quicker updates than just... Whenever I remember to update. Also, makes me feel good.


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